


Lovely, Broken Things Make the Best Gifts

by DeanisBatman



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Guardianship, M/M, OC Rhea Graves, Protective Original Percival Graves, credence needs a hug and all the loves, newt is a bouncing awkward cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanisBatman/pseuds/DeanisBatman
Summary: Three months after the events in the subway Credence Barebone is alive and under the guardianship of magical creature expert Newt Scamander. They must find a way to separate Credence from his obscurus before it kills him, but that is easier said than done.  Meanwhile, the universe, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that Percival Graves has not suffered enough and he finds himself saddled with two of the most infuriatingly repressed wizards in creation. And he might be falling in love with one of the them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an epic fic in the making. Stick with me here. I'll try my best to update once a week (more if I'm particularly inspired). Reviews INSPIRE me. *hint, hint**wink,wink* 
> 
> Also, Dougal is a girl demiguise in this story, because for some reason that’s what my headcannon decided was best. *shrug* I don’t ask. Also, Credence is over 18 in this story for purposes of BECAUSE and such. *nods*

His dark eyes were closed, lids wrinkled with focus. Black snaked out of his fingertips like smoky eels, thin bodies of electric pain, weaving through and around each other. Credence Barebone let the black ooze out of his pores until it enveloped him in a thick embrace. His body began to vibrate and sweat mixed with the magic pulsing under his skin. Threads of power rang through him like a clear bell marking the noon hour. He whimpered.

“You’re safe, Credence. Nothing can hurt you here,” a soft voice assured him from far away.

Eighteen and still Credence felt like the hungry five year old being belted for eating a bite of bread before prayer. That memory skimmed to the surface of his thoughts, as it so often did, and fear spiked hard enough to make his chest hurt. A gentle hand caressed his shoulder and Credence leaned slightly into the touch without opening his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“That’s it, Credence. Relax into it. The obscurus doesn’t control you. It just wants to keep you safe and you are…safe.” Newt added the last in a firm voice that echoed the promise he had given such a short time before. _I’ll never let them hurt you again, Credence. Never again._

Even out of sight, Newt’s presence was calming like the warm sun on closed eyelids. Credence allowed his bones to settle into the feeling of restrained chaos that always accompanied the first stage of releasing his obscurial powers. It was getting easier to hold them in check. The first few attempts with Newt had ended with the ginger haired man bloody and bruised. Credence had almost given up after the last try resulted in his guardian breaking an arm. Newt had assured him that he had gotten much worse injuries wrestling his often reluctant creatures into the suitcase menagerie, but that had been of no comfort to the younger wizard. Guilt still clawed hungrily at Credence like a wild thing. He gasped and bit down hard on his lip - a momentary distraction to free himself from the downward spiral that trail of thinking could produce.

“You’re doing beautifully,” Newt encouraged with another soft touch to the young man’s shoulder. “Let the power move through you. Breathe. In, out. In, out.”

Credence matched Newt’s slow, even breathing. It was hard work and the collar of his button up shirt was already soaked through with sweat. There were so many memories hidden in his mind waiting to scream at the world in a destructive tornado of black magic. He could feel control slipping inch by inch out of his grasp. Oily tar-like seams of magic rent the air around him and pulled at his body. One more deep breath and Credence opened his eyes with a feeling of utter defeat. It was all too much. The dark had blurred out Newt’s grounding presence.

“I can’t -anymore. I-I can’t,” his words were an exhausted jumble.

Newt was instantly at his side, pulling Credence into a strong embrace even as the cloud of black turned ash gray and then disappeared. “You did great, Credence. I’m so proud of you.”

Black hair fell across angular pale cheeks that tinted pink at the praise. Credence felt his chest constrict with held breath at the words and touch. His eyes burned, but he refused to burst into tears. Three months before, when Newt had given Credence his first wand, the boy had wept. Truly wept for the first time in his life. Ever since he had been sensitive to any kindness and the simplest thing could leave him feeling completely overwhelmed. He forced himself to resume breathing when Newt pulled back to give him a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

“That was phenomenal!” The magizoologist waved his hands for emphasis. “A few more weeks and I might be able to separate it.”

Dread surfaced and with it a burgeoning sense of liberation. Credence wanted to be normal. He wanted to be able to remember his adoptive sisters without his obscurus wrapping around him like a heavy shroud.

“Here, this’ll help.” Newt dug a square of chocolate out of his pocket and held it out.

Credence took the offered treat with a shy nod of gratitude. The young man felt like he had run a full marathon in the five minutes that his obscurial powers had been active. The two wizards were inside a heavily warded section of the suitcase. The area had been spelled to look like a forest meadow to help him relax and keep the unstable power contained. Credence finished the chocolate and walked over to a nearby log and sat down. His long legs stretched out in front of him in the grass. Newt watched with a relaxed grin. It had been a productive, if intense, session.

There were so many things Credence wanted to say to his guardian -   _thank you, I’m sorry, don’t leave me_ \- but years of abuse kept them locked up tight in his throat. He watched through half-closed eyes as Newt took from his pocket a strange wooden contraption with a gray, moon-shaped orb at one end held in place by crisscrossed gold bands. The ginger studied it for several seconds before stowing it back in his jacket pocket.

“It’s a full moon tonight. How would you feel about taking the mooncalves out for a short walk later?” Newt asked.

Credence’s lips twitched upward. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ve been wanting to harvest some quality mooncalf dung, but artificial lighting gives them indigestion and that’s no good for mulching,” Newt fussed.

A huff of air was the only indication that Credence was amused by the change in conversation. He still couldn’t laugh out loud, but Newt was trying his best to help Credence overcome that particularly difficult hurdle whenever possible. Newt skipped over to the young wizard’s side and smiled mischievously from under his ginger fringe. It was the half-shy, half-I’m-about-to-suggest-something-ridiculously-dangerous-but-fun expression that Credence had learned to be cautious of for good reason. The last time he had seen it they were quickly neck deep in a particularly foul smelling swamp.  

“Have you ever played wizard’s chess?” Newt asked. Credence gave the man an even stare until the other wizard looked suitably abashed. “I suppose you haven’t had the chance,” Newt admitted with a grimace. He brandished his wand with a flourish. “Until now, that is. Accio wizard’s chess!”

The young man sat up and swiveled on the log so that he could watch with wide eyes as a box careened through the air at breakneck speed. Newt caught it and with a single word had the animated pieces assembling themselves. The board floated in the air between them and the pieces shifted impatiently in their appointmented spots. Credence would never tire of seeing magic at play. The obscurus twitched in his bones, responding to his emotions and he took a quick breath to steady it and himself.

“White or black?” Newt asked. The man had conjured himself a stool and was sitting with his elbow balanced on his knees and his chin in his hand. They had yet to begin and already the magizoologist had the calculating expression he carried before doing something difficult like giving an occamy eye drops.

“Black,” Credence said.

“Are you sure about that? I won’t go easy on you,” Newt teased with his best poker face, which wasn’t particularly good.

Another amused huff of air was the black haired man’s only response. Credence motioned for Newt to go and soon the two wizards were locked in a silent battle of strategy. In the end it was a draw. Credence found that he enjoyed the game more than expected. His mother had never held with diversions like chess. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the strain on his back that aggravated his scars. Newt ducked his head to check his watch.

“Goodness. Dougal is usually plying us with food by now,” the magizoologist said with a hint of concern. The demiguise was nowhere to be seen.

Credence groaned and pointed upward. “Do you think she got out again?”

“No. My wards haven’t activated. Although, now that I think about it a demiguise might be able to circumvent them,” Newt admitted sheepishly. “C’mon, let’s go have a look, shall we?”

Newt shrank the chess set and shoved it into a pocket. Credence followed his guardian out of the meadow and into the main open area of the suitcase. Creatures great and small were flitting and skittering about in contentment. Dodos - Diricawl, Credence - popped into existence around their feet and Credence had to do some fancy footwork to stop from falling on his face.  Newt didn’t seem to have the same difficulty as he led the way straight through to the bamboo thicket where Dougal spent most of her time babysitting the quickly maturing occamys. The space was empty.

“Merlin’s bloody tea cozy!” Newt hissed, slapping his hand against his thigh in frustration. “Why couldn’t I have taken up something less stressful like conducting a mandrake orchestra?”

Credence didn’t understand the reference, but knew that the creatures had likely made another escape attempt. His shoulders hunched up around his ears and he ducked his chin against his chest, reflexively making himself a smaller target. Newt was turning in a circle and looking up as if the spelled ceiling might somehow provide him with an answer to all life’s riddles. It took him a moment to notice that Credence had stopped moving. The young man’s chest barely shifts with each shallow breath when Newt’s face fell.

“Oh, Credence, I’m sorry. Everything’s fine, really. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m not mad. I’m really not.” Newt was smiling a bit too brightly, the edges cracking under concern for his ward. “I’m sorry for shouting.”

The black haired head bowed the smallest fraction in acknowledgement, but Credence was still locked in place waiting for the belt to strike his back or face. Air whistled out of his lungs and rattled through clenched teeth. Newt stepped forward and slowly, so slowly, pulled the boy into a gentle hug. He carded calloused fingers through the shiny black hair. Credence gradually thawed into the embrace. Still he was rooted to the spot even as concern for the demiguise and occamys pounded through his veins.

“‘m sorry,” Credence mumbled into Newt’s chest.

“Shh. There’s nothing to apologize for,” Newt reassured softly. “You’re safe.”

Credence swallowed against a growing knot in his throat and his eyes itched with unshed tears. He could feel Newt’s breaths against the shorter hairs at the back of his neck and it reminded him of another embrace not so very long ago. He pushed abruptly against Newt’s chest and spun away, dizzy with the hot poker memory of betrayal. Grindlewald.

“Calm, Credence,” Newt said in a low, firm tone like he was talking to one of his oversized creatures.

Being compared to an animal, even in his own mind, was too much. Long fingers curled into fists. Then the young man noticed that he was leaking black again. It took only a moment to draw the power back into himself and suddenly he was able to move, no longer held hostage by the irrational fear from moments before. Newt would never betray or use him like Grindlewald.  

“Where would they go?” Credence rasped, forcing words past the knot in his throat.

Newt gave the young man a searching, pained look before clearing his expression. “Somewhere with a lot of space, they do like to stretch. Maybe they’ve gone to visit the graphorns?” Newt sounded doubtful.

The two wizards started back through the winding path of the suitcase sanctuary, checking each enclosure as they went. When they reached the graphorn habitat Newt sent out several silent spells that lit up the artificial sky with hues of pink and pale blue. After a moment the ginger shook his head and started toward the wooden shed that led to the stairway exit. Credence followed several steps behind. He was still tired from exercising his dark powers and the thought of hunting an invisible demiguise for the next several hours - or, god forbid, days - was almost intolerable. Credence wanted to sit down on the cot in the wooden shed where Newt spends most of his nights. He couldn’t though. Newt needed his help and Credence would give anything for the man who had saved him from certain death.

Newt left the suitcase first. When Credence exited several moments later it was clear that Dougal and the others had taken it upon themselves to explore every inch of the hotel room Newt had rented for them that night. Outside the large windows windswept sand dunes stretched off into the distance. They were reassured to see that at least the shiny ashtray was still in place which meant that the Niffler hadn’t wriggled free. Credence carefully closed the suitcase, both clasps clicked into place with a hollow sound.

“I’m going outside to take a look around the building. Would you mind searching the crawl spaces?” Newt asked.

Credence took his wand out of its thigh holster. It felt both alien and familiar in his hand like something he had once owned in another life. A thrill of the taboo still washed over him every time he fingered the worn cherry wood. Credence knew several spells to help in searching for lost and missing creatures thanks to the almost weekly escape attempts by Dougal and the more restless creatures in Newt’s care.

The magizoologist gave the young man an encouraging smile and then left the room with his wand spelled to look like an umbrella. Credence almost said something, but decided that if anyone could pull off carrying a frilly pink umbrella in the desert it would be Newt Scamander. He huffed in silent amusement.

The first few vents gave no positive results but when Credence moved into the bathroom he noticed one corner of the ceiling vent had been unscrewed. The bottom fell out of his stomach. If the occamys had gotten into the ceiling there was a chance they could find a large enough space to transform into potentially enormous beasts. He could only hope Dougal had kept them out of danger. Credence tried to conjure his patronus, but the charm refused to manifest. Newt said it would take time and patience, but seeing how effortlessly the older man could cast his own ghostly familiar left Credence feeling inadequate.

With no other choice, Credence pocketed his room key and went in search of his guardian. He had never been good in public spaces. The dark threat hiding under his skin left him feeling both dangerous and vulnerable. A combination likely to trigger the self-protective response that made obscurials so feared. The raven haired man kept his eyes gaze fastened to the floor as he shuffled through halls and down stairwells. Newt had been swallowed up by the hotel and with each passing second the voice in the back of Credence’s head that never stopped saying “ _he’ll leave you, he doesn’t need you like you need him”_ got louder. His chest felt like it was being gripped in a vise and his hands had formed into nervous fists as if he could fight off the sudden wave of anxiety through sheer force of will.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Credence flinched violently, his whole body slamming against the wall and curling in on itself.

“Sorry.” The hand disappeared and Newt’s face came into view. “I’m sorry, Credence, I didn’t think. Forgive me.”

“I found them,” Credence whispered to the floor, his whole body wound up so tight his joints ached. “Ceiling vent above the bathroom.”

“Good. That’s good work, Credence,” Newt said with a nod and a tremulous smile.

Credence straightened and glanced quickly both ways to make sure no one had seen his shameful display. Twin spots of red colored his cheeks. Newt gave him an exasperated-fond look and pulled him into a hug. Credence couldn’t stop himself from holding on a little too tight. For a brief moment he had been so certain Newt had abandoned him. Breathing in the older wizard’s earthy scent helped calm the young man’s nerves. He pulled away after a moment and fidgeted with his shirt cuffs feeling too big for his skin.

“Well, lets see what we can do about those ceiling vents, shall we?” Newt asked brightly.

Credence nodded and followed his guardian back to their room. He silently wondered, not for the first time, why Newt never tried lashing the suitcase closed when he wasn’t inside. It was almost like the magizoologist enjoyed chasing his creatures through the territory of unsuspecting non-magical people who Newt called Muggles. Credence shivered. He knew all too well the consequences of revealing magic to the muggles. It shocked him how little Newt seemed to care about mingling the two worlds. The possibilities sometimes kept Credence awake at night, staring up at the shadowed ceiling and wondering what he would do if Newt got arrested _or worse_ for letting a muggle wander about with free knowledge that magic and magical creatures were real.

It wasn’t hard to lure the occamys out of the vent. A bowl of fresh cockroaches did the trick. Dougal was a harder nut to crack. The demiguise seemed to have a special contempt for the world inside the suitcase that only rivaled her loyalty to Newt’s band of mismatched creatures. In the end it took a spectacularly random non-strategy to corral the prescient beast which consisted of Newt apparating through the vent system until he literally ran into the invisible animal. Dougal was less than impressed, but went into her nest willingly enough once she saw there was no other option.

It had been a very eventful day and by the time the sun kissed the horizon Credence was exhausted. He waved off Newt’s offer of dinner in favor of turning in for the night. The one problem with sharing a hotel room with someone was that Credence couldn’t hide his nightmares. Even though he had long ago trained himself not to cry out aloud, the frantic movements that accompanied night terrors were enough to wake the ginger wizard. Credence hated being a burden on the kind man even more than he hated the evil blackness swirling inside his own veins. If he could rip out the obscurus with his own two hands then he would. Both of their lives would be easier.

“Tea and toast at least?” Newt asked. He walked over and sat on the bed next to Credence, holding up a plate of buttered toast and a steaming cup of tea. “You used a lot of energy today.”

Credence shook his head. His stomach gurgled mutinously.

“A few bites? We can share,” Newt offered.

Too tired to argue, Credence reached over and plucked a half-piece of toast of the plate and nibbled at the crust. Newt at the other half.

“I meant it earlier. You did good. How do you feel about maybe manifesting the obscurus fully next time?” Newt asked, watching Credence through his messy fringe of bangs.

The younger man froze mid-chew.

“There’s no pressure, Credence. We are going to take this as slow as you need, but...but I worry. About you.”

Credence choked on an abrupt inhale and spluttered for several seconds before finding his voice. “Sorry.”

Newt gave an exasperated chuckle. “There’s no need for you to be,” he assured.

“I’ll try,” Credence said after a long hesitation.

“Good. That’s good,” Newt said.


	2. Chapter Two

Percival Graves was having a bad week. No, scratch that, he was having a bad incarnation. The whole damn thing was a wasted 40 years. Merlin’s beard he was tired. As director of magical security it had been his job to make sure nothing remotely dangerous got near the President or threatened the status quo of MACUSA. Being kidnapped, replaced by an evil maniacal wizard and forced to take three months medical leave had destroyed any chance he had of retiring early. No, he’d be lucky to retire at all. Rumor was the President wanted him replaced with a younger model without bothering with things like severance packages or due process. Percival glared at Lt. Auror Daneel Greenley. The quarter-veela had always cast a jaundiced glance at the way Graves ran the department. No doubt the flaxen haired woman would be replacing him posthaste.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and fought back the migraine threatening to intrude on an already spectacularly ruined day.  A shadow fell over his desk.

“Sir, we’ve got word of a lethifold in Central Park,” Porpentina Goldstein reported.

“Great. I’ll take it.” Graves was on his feet in a moment. Any excuse to get out from under the spotlight of furtive glances and whispers.

Porpentina gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure that’s wise, sir? This is only your first week off medical le-”

“I said I’d take it,” he cut the woman off.

She ducked her head, short brown hair bobbing with the movement. “Yes, sir.”

Robes billowed around his ankles as he fled the oppressive weight of MACUSA headquarters. Once outside on the street Graves allowed himself to slow and breathe in the scent of his city. No-maj families were present in droves due to the bright summer weather. No doubt the Lethifold had been caught out after the night’s sudden rainstorm. High and dry. Graves laughed to himself. At least the malevolent creature wouldn’t have many places to hide.

At that second something pinged Percival’s personal ‘shit isn’t right’ radar and he glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough a dark head of hair was weaving through the crowded sidewalk a dozen yards behind him. Porpentina Goldstein. Graves ground his teeth together and decided to ignore the breach of trust and protocol. It would take too much paperwork to give her a real dressing down and, if he was being honest, all he wanted was to get the day over with and go home. She could watch him dispatch a lethifold if it made her sleep better at night.

Cutting the chase, he apparated to a shadowed alley just across the street from Central Park. He chose the most direct path through the park, figuring the Lethifold would want the maximum access to human victims. When he was about a quarter mile through the park the hairs on his arms and neck stood on end. He hadn’t seen anything yet, but obviously his highly sensitized magic had felt the threat. Graves drew his wand and held it at the ready, mostly hidden within the long sleeves of his dress robes in case anyone should be watching.

The lethifold must have escaped from one of the many illegal exotic creature markets around the city. Few things could slip out of ill-warded containments faster than the living shroud. No witch or wizard had been able to figure out how to kill a lethifold, but they could be trapped well enough that there was no hope of escape. Graves just happened to keep such a prison hidden on his person ever since the Grindelwald incident. He would never be caught unprepared again. Palming the magically shrunken cage in his left hand he walked off the trail and entered the treeline. Any shadow could potentially hold the lethifold’s silky form.

Then he saw it, a spot of black that seemed to suck all the light into itself like a black hole. Percival’s mouth fell into a thin line. He would have to handle this delicately so as not to spook the creature. A lethifold on the run was almost impossible to track. No, he would have to attack and capture it in one move or risk the lives of those no-maj families bustling around his city unaware of the potential danger.

The auror knelt down and placed the cage on the ground, opening it. The lethifold was ensconced in the shadow of a towering black tupelo tree. Luckily they were far enough into the forested area to be hidden from any curious no-maj eyes. If he was going to trap the lethifold then Percival would need to move at a ninety degree angle to the creature. Using magic to muffle his footsteps he crept to the left until he reached a point between the beast and the cage.

“Expecto patronum,” he said with a practiced swish of his wand.

The blue-white form of his patronus leapt into existence and moved straight for the lethifold. After a moment the beast responded by jumping from one pool of shadows to the next in a line that led straight for the waiting cage. Percival grinned, relieved that nothing had gone wrong. His patronus continued to doggedly chase the dark creature, herding it closer and closer to the charmed enclosure. If the lethifold got within the charm radius then it would be instantly pulled into the cage. Seconds away from the target, the lethifold made an abrupt turn and shot straight toward Percival’s position. He ducked and heard the thwip-fwish of the lethifold twisting against the tree trunk above him. He called his patronus, but it was too late. Already a dark splotch was taking up part of his vision and he could feel something ice cold against the skin at the back of his neck.

“Graves, catch!”

He looked up just in time to see Porpentina tossing him the cage. He caught just as his patronus arrived at his side. The charm activated and the lethifold was sucked into the box, the door slamming closed and locking itself. Percival collapsed and leaned back against the rough skin of the tree. His heartbeat rang loud in his ears and it took a moment for him to realize that Porpentina had reached his side. She looked down at him with a worried frown.

“Are you alright, sir?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, Tina.” His voice remained steady even as he hid his shaking hands by shoving them in his pocket. He watched her pick up the cage and stow it in her coat. “Thanks. I was going to write you up for stalking a supervisor, but I guess I’ll let that pass.”

Her face blushed and she ducked her head sheepishly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she started to explain.

Graves cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No need to justify yourself, officer. If I was in your position then I would do the same thing.”

The woman looked like she wanted to argue, but instead bit her lip and offered Graves a helping hand. He took it and pulled himself up with a groan. The skin where the lethifold had touched him tingled and he knew better than to ignore that.

“I’m going to get myself checked out by a healer. Be a doll and log that beast into the vault,” Percival said.

Porpentina nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She apparated away first and Graves stared for a moment at the empty air where she had stood. If even Goldstein thought he couldn’t be trusted then maybe it really was time to hang up the auror robes. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked up at the blue sky. Retiring might not be so bad if he did it before they fired him. He sighed. Who was he kidding? It would be terrible. Long lonely night filled with guilt and memories. Graves shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. He knew it was probably an effect of the lethifold but it was enough to make him wonder if being rescued had really been a good thing. Languishing as Grindelwald’s prisoner had at least left him hope about the future. Now everything looked bleak.

Percival shook his head and apparated to the nearest medi-witch station. The healer on duty didn’t seem particularly concerned with the numbness that was spreading down Graves’ neck and left shoulder. She prescribed an orange fizzy potion and two hours bed rest at the hospital.

“But I’m a busy auror - head of the department of magical security,” he argued.

The woman raised a thick, dark eyebrow. “I can’t make you stay, but if you leave against medical advice then you can’t come back here complaining about lost appendages or permanently damaged nerve tissue.”

That shut Graves up for a moment. “Really?”

“Yes, really. The potion will put everything to rights but it needs time to work and during that time you can’t be exerting yourself. Are we clear?”

He nodded and lay back on the hospital bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll come by in a few hours to check your progress and if everything looks good then you’ll be able to go home,” she said. “Now, drink.”

He drank the disgusting tasting potion and then watched her walk away before turning his gaze up to the ceiling that had been spelled to look like the clear sky outside. The man gave a longsuffering sigh and then put the pillow over his face and silently screamed into the soft fabric. His day could not possibly get any worse.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “But you’re Percival Graves - the one from the train station - aren’t you?”

Graves raised the pillow, fully intending to rant at the stranger interrupting his pity-party, but his anger deflated when he saw an old woman, stooped with age, standing at the foot of his bed. She was missing her right arm from the elbow down. A thick raised scar created a diagonal ridge across her face. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression. Graves motioned for her to come closer and she shuffled to his side.

“I am Percival Graves, but I’m afraid the ‘train station’ incident had nothing to do with me,” he said.

She nodded slowly, clearly working something out in her head. “Ah. Polyjuice potion.”

“No. A transfiguration charm,” Percival admitted bitterly.

He was still sore about the fact that his own office hadn’t identified an intruder. Grindelwald’s transfiguration skills were legendary and in hindsight it was stupid of the department not to take more precautions for precisely the type of event that had occurred.

“Well, that’s that then,” the old woman said.

“Why were you asking?” Graves wanted to know.

“My grandson was there. He was killed by you…r imposter.” Her eyes turned to steel and she clenched her jaw in obvious distress.

His stomach dropped. He had known Grindelwald killed several of the aurors tasked with his capture, but none of them had been names he recognized. Now their deaths weighed even heavier on his soul.

Graves scrubbed a hand over his face and reigned in the urge to use Stupefy on himself. Being the head of a magical department came with some unsavory tasks attached. Interacting with the families of slain aurors was one of them, but usually he wasn’t being directly blamed for the death. The old woman at his side looked torn between fury and sorrow.

“Look, ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am,” Graves started. He reached out a hand and touched her arm. “The man responsible for your grandson’s death is in custody and MACUSA will make sure he pays for his crimes.”

The woman looked down at his hand and then drew herself up, lifting her chin. “Yes, of course. I apologize for insinuating you aurors weren’t doing enough, Mister Graves.”

She turned, walking away and Graves let his hand fall back to the bed. Her words repeated in his head, the tone growing accusing as his guilt kicked into high gear. Damn but a bad day could always get worse. He closed his eyes intending to rest them for just a moment.

“Sir, I’ve got some bad news.”

Graves jerked away from Porpentina’s voice feeling disoriented. The dark haired woman was sitting next to his bed in a chair that hadn’t been there before.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked muzzily.

“A few hours. The nurse said you could leave, but I figured you could use the extra sleep. However, we’ve got a problem,” Porpentina said urgently. She was leaning forward on the edge of her seat, hands clasping and unclasping.

“And what would that be?” Graves asked, not wanting to know.

“Grindelwald escaped.”

“He _what_?” Graves’ voice jumped several octaves.

“The President has increased the threat level to three and issued a countrywide manhunt,” Porpentina said. She fidgeted, her thumbs folding and unfolding.

Graves sat up and was gratified to find that the sleep had done some good. All feeling had returned to the affected areas and he actually felt more clear headed than he had in months. No one paid him any attention when he walked out of the room with Porpentina in his wake. She had to jog to keep up with his longer strides.

“Okay, first I need to interview the guards who were on duty watching Grindelwald,” he said.

“They’re already being brought in,” she reported.

“Good. That’ll save us some time. Who knows about the escape?”

“We’re keeping it out of the press for now, but it’s only a matter of time,” she said. Her lips thinned into a harsh line. She didn’t have to verbalize how screwed MACUSA would be if Grindelwald wasn’t apprehended immediately.

“Alright. I want Queenie patrolling for leaks in the department. We need to control how and when this gets out,” he said.

Porpentina nodded and send her patronus to Queenie with the order. Graves didn’t stop his fast pace until they reached the department of magical security. It was in an uproar. Papers were skittering about the desks and flying through the air in all directions. In that moment he wondered if the grandmother from the hospital would ever be able to forgive him should Grindelwald truly be out of their reach. Angered at his own helplessness, Graves drew his wand.

“Silencio! _Colloshoo_!” he cast in an all encompassing arc.

Instantly the office fell silent and everyone froze, their shoes stuck fast to the floor. Graves took a moment to collect himself before moving forward. The aurors watched him with varying degrees of annoyance. Most of them had already countered his sticking hex. When he reached the door leading to his personal office Graves turned to face them. He schooled his features into an emotionless mask and with a _swish-flick_ of his wand wordlessly ended the silencing charm.  

“We have one job, people. For the next twenty-four hours nothing exists in this world except finding and recapturing Gellert Grindelwald. I don’t care if bloody hippogryphs start raining from the sky, we have one job.” He raised his index finger to emphasize the point. “Find Grindelwald.”

“Yes, sir.” a dozen voices echoed around the room.

“Good. I’m going to speak with some of my contacts and see what they know. Do not disturb me unless you have something new and useful to say. I’ll want to see those guards as soon as they arrive.” With that Graves turned on his heel and pushed into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He had maybe five minutes before the wizards who had been guarding Grindelwald would arrive. Hurrying around his desk, Graces retrieved a two way mirror from the top drawer and looked into it.

“Rhea!” he hissed.

Nothing happened. Graves traced his eyebrow impatiently.

“Rhea, it’s important. I know you can hear me,” he said.

A pair of piercing black eyes appeared in the mirror. They were glaring at him with equal measures accusation and annoyance.

“You needed medical treatment and didn’t come to me?” Rhea Graves asked. “Some brother you are. Can’t even trust your little sister to patch you up properly.”

Graves rolled his eyes. “It was only a lethifold, Rhea.”

“Oh, well if it was only a lethifold then that’s okay,” her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Next time I’ll come to you, okay?” Percival said.

“Fine. Now what do you want? Did you leave against medical advice, because if you did then I’m not re-attaching whatever fell off,” she said. He could tell she had crossed her arms even if all he could see was her face.

“No. I need your help locating a... _misplaced_...prisoner.”

Her face paled. “Don’t tell me it’s Grindelwald.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Percival snarked.

“Merlin’s beard, that’s just great. How exactly am I supposed to know where that monster’s gone?” she asked.

Graves tilted his head and gave her a look. “You’re my sister and I love you, but you’re also addicted to gossip. Also, I know for a fact that you are trading in Pygmy Puffs which could land you a sizeable fine. A fact I am ready and willing to ignore if you tell me what I need to know.”

“Fine. I might - might, mind you - have possibly, maybe been at the illegal market on 3rd street earlier today where a couple of wizards could have mentioned that a certain ‘infamous madman’ was looking for a non-regulated way off the continent. To be honest, I thought they were talking about Arsenios Grey, but now...” she trailed off.

“See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Percival asked with an overly-sweet smile.

“Shut up,” Rhea groused. “Now go catch that insane whack job before someone else dies or you get yourself fired.”

“Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rhea disappeared from view and Graves was left staring at his own hardened expression. He sighed and put the looking mirror away before filling out a form that would allow him to enter the docks without a warrant. It was the best place in the city to find an illegal way off the continent. If Grindelwald was desperate enough he might show up there. Identifying the criminal through his renowned transfiguration spells would be the trick.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

There was something wrong with the process, Newt had decided after several rigorous yet failed attempts to manifest the obscurus separate from Barebone’s body. It was vital that the physical manifestation of the obscurial power not be touching the young man when Newt conducted the separation ceremony. Now they just had to find a way to do that.  _ And soon _ . 

Credence was starting to show signs of sickness. Veins in his hands and neck were dark, standing out starkly against his pale skin. The Sudanese girl had displayed similar symptoms in the weeks leading up to her death. Newt was scared that he wouldn’t be able to figure out the answer in time to save his ward. Failure was not an option. 

“Has there ever been a time where you felt the obscurus form away from your body?” Newt asked, studying the young man before him.

Credence was pallid and his breathing sharper than normal. “Maybe.”

“When? Where were you? What did it feel like exactly?” Newt was desperate for any information. “How old were you, that is very important.”

Overwhelmed by the amount of questions and his own inability to find the right words when discussing the obscurus, Credence shrank away. A drawn out silence fell between them. Newt’s mind was working too fast and he couldn’t seem to focus his attention where it was necessary - on the boy. Credence, for his part, was too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. It was obvious to the young man that his guardian needed something from him and not being able to provide it was torture. 

Newt studied the boy with a confused frown. After a long moment the man smacked a palm to his own forehead and then gave Credence a wan smile. “I can be quite insensitive sometimes. Ignore me.” 

Credence opened his mouth, found he didn’t know what to say, and snapped it closed again. He hugged his arms around his middle and turned away from the ginger haired man. 

“It was when I lived back  _ there _ ,” he placed special emphasis on the word and then clarified in a strangled whisper, “the orphanage.” 

In his mind the building rose like a twisted giant full of horror chambers instead of rooms. He swallowed a whimper and held himself even tighter. Newt approached the boy slowly and touched a gentle hand to his shoulder, smoothing circles over the shirt. 

“Good. That’s a good start, Credence,” Newt said and there was a warm smile in his voice. “You can tell me the rest at your own pace, no pressure.” 

Credence nodded and slumped against his guardian’s side, exhausted from being so tightly wound for so long. Newt gave his shoulder a final pat and then reached his arm around to offer better support. 

“C’mon, lets get out of here. You deserve a nice break,” the ginger said. 

They walked out of the meadowed area and down the winding path toward the wooden shack. Credence let his eyelids droop low so that all he could see was his feet on the ground moving forward one step at a time. After a few moments the diricawl chicks came in and out of view, their little wings flapping uselessly. 

“I’m afraid it might be the best option,” Newt spoke suddenly in that voice he used sometimes that meant he was thinking aloud and hadn’t meant to speak at all. “We’ll have to go back to the orphanage.” 

The world tilted sideways and Credence felt his blood turn ice cold. At his side Newt inhaled sharply, realizing his mistake, but it was too late. A boil of  _ hatredangerbetrayal  _ bubbled up inside the young man so fast he didn’t even have time to warn the magizoologist before it exploded violently outward. The obscurus sent out a single thick burst of sparking black magic before Credence could reassert control. His limbs were shaking uncontrollably and he smelled smoke. His knees slammed into the dirt path hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.

“No! No, no!” Newt was shouting. 

Credence blinked and looked up blearily. The world was still tilted at an odd angle, everything felt wrong like it had been taken apart and put back together with alien pieces. It took far too long for Credence to notice that the wooden shed was on fire. Newt was racing toward it with his wand drawn even as the suitcase’s defenses began to sprinkle water over everything in the vicinity. 

“Aguamenti!” Newt shouted and a torrent of water burst from the tip of his wand. 

This must be what it was like to watch a play, Credence thought numbly. The ones Mary Lou used to call evil. She used to call him evil too. Right before she would make him take off his belt so that he could be punished for bringing his foul existence into the world. Credence let out a pained animal sound when he realized what he had just done. Newt was casting spells to repair the damaged shed, but a scorched path of destruction was strewn in a straight line from where Credence was kneeling to the shed. He inhaled the scent of burnt plants and fought back tears. He never did anything right. 

Newt finally finished repairing the shed and turned his attention to the animals and enclosures. Every few seconds he would cast a worried glance at Credence and he worked as quickly as possible to check the creatures for injuries while he made his way back to the boy who had yet to move. Credence watched silently from eyes that welled over with tears of guilt and shame. The closer Newt got the more horrified Credence became with what had happened. 

Wordlessly, Credence forced his legs under him and stood. He ducked his head, black hair falling over his eyes, and unbuckled his belt. It was only right that he be punished. Closing his eyes, he felt hot tears track down his cheeks when he pulled the belt off loop by loop. 

A soft gasp made the young man look up. Newt was crouched several feet away facing left and cradling a lifeless diricawl chick in his hands. The obscurus lurched in response to the sight, but Credence clenched his hands around the belt until the urge to lash out subsided. He had killed an innocent creature.

“Newt,” Credence said. 

When his guardian met his gaze with wide pale eyes the boy held out his belt. An offering. Time slowed as he waited for the ginger haired man to step forward and do the right thing. Already Credence felt his back tense in anticipation, but he forced his muscles to relax. He deserved the pain. 

“Oh, Credence,” Newt’s voice was so soft it was almost lost in the space between them. 

Gently placing the dead diricawl on the ground, Newt stood and walked over to boy. He took the belt and Credence flinched involuntarily before steeling himself. 

“Wingardium leviosa.”

Surprised, the black haired youth watched his belt float in the air, moving upward in odd little jumps. Once it was well above them Newt’s face hardened. 

“Confringo.” 

There was a sharp sound and then an orange explosion swallowed up the strap of leather. Newt gave a satisfied nod and smiled at Credence, pocketing his wand. 

“Now, I have a lovely spell to teach you over dinner that will size all your clothes so you won’t need another one of those infernal things. C’mon.” 

Credence felt at a loss. There was no illwill in Newt’s blue eyes and not even a hint of anger. This wasn’t how punishments were supposed to go. Newt saw the confusion and reached out to brush his thumb over the young man’s pale cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks. 

“You did nothing wrong, Credence. It was my fault.”

“But the diricawl.” Credence pointed with a trembling finger to where the mother diricawl was trying to rouse her unmoving chick. “I did that.” 

“No. You are not responsible. If you’d like we can give her a proper burial. Would that help?” Newt asked. 

Still not sure why he wasn’t being belted bloody, Credence nodded. Newt leaned over and knocked his shoulder against the boy’s in a friendly touch. Then the magizoologist retrieved the dead diricawl and wrapped it in a translucent stasis spell. He led his ward past the still smoking plants and into the wood shed that looked exactly like it did any other day. There were no signs that minutes before it had been engulfed in flames. Newt clapped Credence on the back and motioned for the boy to ascend the stairway first. 

The suitcase was in the middle of an abandoned parking lot in a neighborhood on the edge of London. Overhead the moon shone bright surrounded by twinkling stars. Mildly disoriented after the artificial daylight inside the suitcase, Credence took a moment to find his footing and by then Newt was at his side with the suitcase in one hand and the diricawl in the other. 

“I know just the place to let this little girl rest,” Newt said with sad fondness. “Do you feel up to apparating or we could walk?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Credence said. His shoulders had taken up permanent residence around his ears. 

“I think a walk would do us both some good,” Newt said with a nod. “It’s this way.” 

They began to trek across the expanse of concrete. There were cracks and holes dotted throughout the parking lot so both wizards kept their wands lit as they walked. Credence waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew that Newt cared about his creatures more than anything in the world and killing one of them must have hurt the other wizard terribly. A knot formed in his throat and Credence tried not to let it show outwardly how little control he had over his emotions. He bowed his head. 

In the light of the Lumos spell Credence was shocked to see that the veins of his of his wand hand were visibly darker. His steps faltered. 

“I saw it too,” Newt admitted. “It’s the reason why I feel so strongly about taking you back...there. I don’t want to lose you, Credence.” 

Neither man was sure what to do with such a loaded admission so they ignored it entirely and walked for the next ten minutes in silence. Being wanted after messing up so badly lit a warm glow in Credence that he was afraid to acknowledge lest it burn him. They walked for a long time, wrapped in their own thoughts and feelings.

After a half-hour Newt turned off the road and led the way into a small cemetery that held only a few dozen plots. They came to a stop in a back corner of the fenced property next to a flowering rose bush. 

“I always thought of this one as Susan,” Newt said raising the hand holding the diricawl. “She was a sweet little thing, but she had a good life. Credence, she didn’t feel any pain.” 

The reassurance was appreciated. With his wand Newt carefully dug out a hole and placed the creature inside, folding the earth back over her with a single word. Credence watched, his hands clasped together. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the universe asking for forgiveness. After a moment he opened his eyes and knelt down to touch the turned earth. 

“Now you can fly,” the boy said before standing.

“You were a peach, Susan. Be at peace,” Newt said. 

He raised his wand and a new rose bush grew out of the tiny grave, flowering with a brilliant pink sparkle to mark the spot. They turned as one and started back toward the cemetery entrance. To his surprise Credence felt a little better. Lighter somehow. Glancing over at Newt through his fringe of black bangs he saw that the older man looked calm. He wanted to do something to thank the older wizard. 

“I’ll go back. If you think that’s what we need to do then I can do it,” Credence said. He was glad the tremor in his limbs didn’t enter his voice. 

“I’m sorry, but I think it would be best. If we can return to the place where your obscurus was strongest then it might be able to manifest separate from you. That’ll make it easier to perform the ceremony,” Newt said. “We’ll get through this, Credence.”

_ We _ . He had said  _ we _ . Warmth spread through the boy’s chest and he nodded, mouth twitching momentarily upward. They were headed back to America, but this time there would be no Mary Lou and no more Grindelwald. Just Newt. Credence knew that with the ginger at his side, he could get through it. Failure wasn’t an option. He owed it to Newt to survive. 

 


	4. Chapter Four

“What is the meaning of this?” Seraphina Picquery asked. 

The MACUSA President held an ornate cream envelope out to Graves. He ignored it and continued packing up his office desk. 

“It’s my statement of intent to retire. I thought you’d be celebrating,” he said gruffly. 

She sighed. “You won’t reconsider?” 

“No. It’s been a week and there’s no sign of Grindelwald. I’m a disgrace to this department and, honestly, I don’t know why you haven’t already fired me.” 

President Picquery pocketed the letter and walked around the desk, trailing her finger across the surface. She looked thoughtful. As usual her appearance was impeccable, twin blond curls peeked out of her black headwrap to accentuate bold cheekbones. 

“I’ve always admired you, Mr. Graves,” she said. 

He paused and looked up in surprise. That was unexpected. She avoided his gaze, picking up a paperweight and inspecting it instead. 

“I believe it is the reason I was blinded by Grindelwald so easily. Your instincts are rarely wrong even when outwardly they appear baseless and I have seen you close cases that would have killed lesser men.” 

“Thanks,” Graves said feeling a bit lost. The President was frugal with her praise and always had been. “But I’m still leaving. It’s time.” 

“That is your prerogative, Mr. Graves,” she said with a slow nod. “Just know that if you should ever miss the department, it will be waiting for you.”

Percival felt touched by the offer, but didn’t let it show on his face. Instead he gave a quick half-bow and spelled the rest of his belongings into the box at his side. He picked it up and started for the door. It was still too early for the other aurors to have arrived for the morning. Graves had wanted to keep his exit as quiet as possible. The last thing he needed was Porpentina or Queenie making a misguided attempt to keep him around. President Picquery followed him out of the office and through the halls, a silent shadow. 

“If you ever need anything, Mr. Graves,” Picquery spoke up finally when they approached the MACUSA lobby. “I consider you a friend. All you need to do is ask.” 

“I appreciate that, President.” 

Her fingertips ghosted across his shoulders in a silent farewell and then the woman was fading back into the halls. Left alone and facing the end of his long career as an auror, Graves clutched the box a bit tighter to his chest and straightened his shoulders. Retiring had been the right choice. 

Few people looked up when he passed by and it was easy to slip outside and apparate back to his apartment. Standing in the center of his bare bedroom with the box in his arms was a sobering moment. There was no script for him to follow and, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, Graves had always thought he would die on the job with adrenaline flooding his veins and wand in hand. Fading into obscurity after a career ruining final case was not at all what he had expected from 40 years of disciplined living. 

There was a knock on his front door. Graves dropped his box on the bed and walked into the other room. Rhea was waiting when he opened the door. His sister had long dark hair curled around her head in a series of intricate braids and wore a simple patterned dress. She thrust a six-pack of butterbeer into his face and pushed past him. 

“You’re an idiot,” she said. 

“Hi. I’m doing great, thanks for asking,” Percival said with a muted glare. He should have known his sister would hear about his retirement before anyone else. “How did you find out?” 

Rhea grabbed one of the drinks, twisted off the lid and took a long drink before answering. “Seraphina and I share the same hairdresser. We’ve become quite close.” 

“Of course you have.” Graves pinched the bridge of his nose. Trust his little sister to become best friends with the President of the entire American magical community. “So she firecalled you?” he guessed. 

“Yep.” 

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but-”

“Wait, woah, woah!” Rhea cut him off with a raised hand. “I think it’s the best move you’ve made in ages. Took you long enough, idiot. I’m here to officially celebrate,” she said.

“Oh.” He put the case of butterbeer in the fridge after taking one for himself. “Thanks.” 

She clinked the neck of their bottles together. “Don’t mention it, brother.” 

They went sat down on the couch and shared an eventless evening. It had been years since the siblings had spent time with each other without any ulterior motives. Percival found himself relaxing as they settled into a humorous conversation about Rhea’s Pygmy Puffs. For once Percival didn’t have to feel guilty about ignoring her breach of magical law. Now he was just another private citizen. It was  _ nice _ . 

“What do you think you’ll do now?” Rhea asked. 

She was sprawled out on the couch with her feet up on the armrest and her head resting on a pillow in Percival’s lap. Four empty butterbeer bottles were scattered on the floor around them. It was the most domestic scene Graves had been party to in decades. He thought about her question, but came up with nothing.

“I’m sure something will come up,” he said dismissively. 

She reached back and smacked his arm. “Now, none of that. You’ve spent literally your entire life fighting bad guys. That energy has to go somewhere now.” 

He flicked the edge of her nose playfully. “Dealing with you will take enough energy, thank you very much.” 

Rhea stuck out her tongue childishly and then grinned. “I can always set you up on a blind date.”

“No!” Percival cried, horrified by the thought. 

 The woman giggled. “I’m just kidding. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Even I know better than to touch that one with a ten foot pole.” 

“Good,” he said sternly. He refused to even consider the notion of his baby sister setting him up on dates with some of her gossip buddies. Percival shuddered.

“Seriously though. Give it some thought. There has got to be something that interests you,” Rhea said.

He let his head fall back against the couch. There had never been time for things like hobbies in his busy life as an auror. Maybe he would ask Porpentina if she had any suggestions. Rhea groaned then and sat up, glancing at her pocketwatch. 

“Damn, I’m late for a night with the girls,” she said. 

“Stay out of trouble,” Percival suggested. 

“Always.” She stood up and gave him a peck on the forehead. “I’ll firecall you later this week.”

He nodded and followed Rhea’s movements back through the apartment until she disappeared out the front door. Percival felt content and let his eyes slide shut. He would clean up the mess they had made later. For now all Graves wanted to do was relax and enjoy the silence. 

It didn’t take long for the enjoyable quiet to become grating. He was simply too used to the sound of papers skittering about desks and people talking over one another. Without Rhea to distract him from the loss of familiar noises the apartment felt stifling. A quick  _ ‘evanesco’  _ got rid of the empty bottles. 

Evening light filtered in through the sheer curtains in the living room and Graves had the sudden need to be outside in his city. He shrugged on his long cloak and left the apartment. Walking the streets, studying the no-maj interactions and keeping a lookout for any potential dangers was familiar territory. He understood now why Porpentina Goldstein had been unable to let go of her auror training.

Graves had read the reports of all his agents and Porpentina’s actions in the events leading up to Grindelwald’s capture had been unprecedented. Her interactions with the magizoologist Newt Scamander had put the whole city in danger but she had acted bravely and done the auror’s proud. Graves had even nominated her for a promotion in his letter to the President. 

Newt Scamander was another matter entirely. Graves was indebted to the man for being the first to figure out Grindelwald’s transfiguration ruse. But he had trouble reconciling that intelligence with the seeming stupidity of housing multiple dangerous creatures in a defective  _ suitcase  _ for Merlin’s sake! It boggled the mind how a sane witch or wizard could come up with such an idiotic plan. Graves was just glad the magizoologist had left New York by the time the auror’s found where Grindelwald had been keeping Graves prisoner. Otherwise he may have hexed Scamander into the next century on principle alone. 

When Graves finally drew himself out of his thoughts and looked around he found that his walk had taken him to the ruined husk of the orphanage where the obscurial had been found. He recognized it from pictures, but had never actually visited it in person. Over three months had passed since the obscurial massacred its adoptive family. Water damage had weakened parts of the building that remained standing. Without thinking Graves started forward, letting his feet lead him through the open foyer and past the splintered remains of a staircase. Something shifted in the ruin and Graves heard a whimper. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” a muffled voice spoke from beyond a nearby wall. 

Edging through a doorway Graves palmed his wand out of habitual precaution. Inside the next room two men were crouched in corner. One had a thick head of ginger hair and wore a blue coat while the other was dark haired with a white button down shirt. Shadows played off their features in the low light. For some reason they seemed vaguely familiar. The room smelt of dark magic. 

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Graves asked, raising his wand. 

The two men turned to face him, their eyes wide and surprised. The black haired one was younger than Graves had at first thought - probably eighteen or nineteen. The youth looked terrified. 

“I’m Newt Scamander,” the man in the blue coat introduced himself. He held his hands out, empty palms up to show that he wasn’t a threat. 

“Newt Scamander?” Graves asked in disbelief. He had never been a big believer in coincidence. “The magizoologist.”

Newt relaxed. “Yes.” 

At his side the boy was beginning to tremble. “It’s h-him.”

Graves wondered if this was another wizard who had lost a loved one during the train station fight. He sincerely hoped not. Newt was trying to quiet the boy, petting his arm and whispering something in a soft voice. Although Graves couldn’t make out most of the words he did recognize ‘Credence’ and the name jolted him. Now he recognized the boy's pale angular face.

“Credence Barebone?” Graves breathed. True fear made the hairs on his neck stand up. The obscurial’s presence explained why Graves could still smell the scent of dark magic thick in the air. “You can’t be here; you’re dead. I read the reports.” 

“Well, your bloody reports were wrong,” Newt shot back with an exasperated glare. He pulled the whimpering boy into a hug and rocked them both back and forth. “Shh. It’s okay, Credence. Grindelwald isn’t here. He can’t hurt you.” 

Except Graves knew that wasn’t true. The dark wizard was on the loose in New York City. The former auror pocketed his wand and turned away to give the two some privacy. He regretted ever leaving his apartment. At least there the awkwardness had been limited to one. Now he felt completely out of his depth. Porpentina usually dealt with the touchy-feely cases. Graves let his gaze rove across the battered wooden walls. Retirement was suppose to save him from moments like this. He frowned crossly and kicked at a piece of broken kettle. 

“Feeling better?” Newt asked. 

“Yes,” Barebone’s response was almost inaudible. 

Satisfied that their emotions were in check, Graves turned back to the two wizards. “I’ll ask again. What are you two doing here?” 

“That’s a bit complicated, see,” Newt said, rubbing the back of his neck. Beside him Credence looked ready to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. “I’m trying to separate his obscurus.” 

Dark eyebrows shot upward in shock. “Excuse me?” Graves demanded. 

“Separating the obscurus. It has to be done and I thought being here might make the process easier,” Newt explained nervously. 

“You want to set loose on my city an evil darkness so powerful it has already killed multiple people?” Graves asked. His blood pressure was growing dangerously high. “I’m calling MACUSA aurors right now.” 

“No, wait!” Newt jumped to his feet. “Just give me a chance. We almost had it before...before you came in. I'm not setting it loose. I'm capturing it. No one is going to get hurt,” Newt was half-turned toward the boy, obviously trying to reassure him as well with the groundless assertion.

“Please,” Credence begged with wide, frightened eyes that glistened with unshed tears. Veins around his eyes and neck were tar black and red rimmed his eyes. “Please.” 

Graves knew the signs of someone poisoned by black magic. If the boy wasn't cured of his obscurus soon there would be nothing left to save. All three of them knew how badly things could go wrong. Graves and Scamander traded looks, sizing each other up. All of the ex-auror’s conclusions about the magizoologist seemed to be true. He was a rash, irresponsible idiot. But he might be the boy's only chance at survival.  

“I’m going to stay in case things get out of control,” Graves stipulated, surprising even himself by agreeing. "If for one second I don't think you have the obsurus contained then I'm putting a stop to it."

He wasn’t prepared for the smile Newt beamed at him. The ginger haired man went back and helped Credence stand and both looked positively giddy with relief. Credence squeezed Newt’s hand and then released it and walked into the center of the room. 

“You might want to back up,” the boy suggested. 

Graves nodded and went to stand next to Newt in the corner of the room. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but took out his wand just in case things got messy. He knew enough about the dark arts to understand that he might have to kill the boy should his obsurial powers be loosed again on the city. 

"I certainly hope you know what you're doing," Graves said grimly. 

Newt smiled up shyly. "Me too." 

That admission was not encouraging, but Graves was prepared to see the thing through. He watched Credence with sharp eyes. The black haired youth was standing with his back to them, hands clenched into fists at his side, shoulders touching his ears. He looked frankly terrified. 

  
  
  


 


	5. Chapter Five

"Now, nice and slow. Like we practiced," Newt addressed the boy in a soft, soothing tone. "Picture the obscurus forming into a circle just out of your reach. Will the power inside of you to leave."

Graves saw fine a smoky wisp of black appear in the air about a foot in front of the boy. It flitted in a tight circle growing bigger with each rotation. Credence was beginning to shake from the effort and his hair was plastered to the nape of his neck with sweat.

"Good. You're doing so good, Credence," Newt said as he took a few steps closer to the boy. "Keep feeding your obscurus out like a line, nice and easy."

"It hurts," Credence said through tightly clenched teeth.

Newt winced but kept his voice serene. "I know. You've got to be brave, Credence. I believe in you."

The boy gave a sharp sob, but kept his focus. Graves felt like he was intruding on a very vulnerable moment between the two wizards. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Neither seemed to remember he was in the room as Newt kept up a steady stream of encouragements. It was impressive to watch the obscurus grow into a whirling ball of thick black magic. Evil, in Percival's significant experience, smelled like burnt rice. His nose wrinkled against the acrid stench permeating the room.

"I c-can't!" the boy shouted suddenly in anguish. His head was starting to shake back and forth superhumanly fast, almost vibrating. "It's too strong!"

"Credence, listen to my voice. Focus on me," Newt said.

When it looked like the boy was beyond being able to respond the magizoologist leapt forward and put his arms around the boy in an embrace that disregarded all sense of self-preservation. Graves gasped when the intimate touch seemed to make the obscurus bloom even larger until it easily took up half the room. They were all going to die, the ex-auror thought as the obscurus blotted out the light until all that was left was wriggling, living black. Someone was shouting in the distance.

"Now, Credence! I've got it. Let go, Credence, let go!" Newt's voice was muffled by the thick magic.

Then everything went unnaturally quiet. Graves felt his heart pumping in his chest, the hairs on his arms standing up. Time stood still until, like a curtain pulling back, the light returned and Graves saw that the obscurus was now trapped in a stasis spell. Credence was sobbing in Newt's arms and at some point the boy had turned so that his face was buried in the nook between Newt's neck and shoulder.

Percival Graves had just witnessed history in the making. The ex-auror let his wand hand fall to his side as he stared at the two wizards in the center of the room. There would be books written and classes taught about this very moment - the first instance of an obscurus being banished from a living host.

"Credence? Credence what's wrong?" For the first time Newt's voice was twisted with worry.

"I'm not sure. I-" the boy's words were bitten off sharply and he started convulsing.

"I need help!" Scamander shouted over his shoulder at the ex-auror.

Graves was already moving forward. His ghostly patronus burst to life and disappeared to find Rhea. Newt was lowering the boy to the floor and Percival took off his cloak and placed it under Credence's head to soften the harsh movements. Then both wizards saw as all the visible veins in the boy's body turned black, standing out sharply against his sickly pale skin. They pulsed once and then whatever magic contamination had been poisoning Credence seemed to vanish. The veins returned to a normal blue-pink, most of them no longer visible at all. Credence lay still, his chest rising and falling evenly.

Newt was breathing too hard and he let his head fall to rest on the boy's chest, fingers tangled in the sweat-soaked shirt. "Lets never do that again, aye?" he whispered breathlessly.

Rhea popped into existence at Percival's elbow. She took in the scene without explanation and dropped to her knees with her wand already shooting out orange and red spells. Rhea shot her brother a concerned glance, but kept her focus on the boy.

"Traces of dark magic. Residual nerve inflammation. Damaged magical core. Merlin's beard, was this boy tortured?" She demanded after reading off the list of injuries.

"He is - was - an obscurial," Percival said, nodding toward the contained black ball of energy floating on the other side of the room. "He was just separated from his obscurus."

The medi-witch opened and closed her mouth a few times and her bugged out expression would have been funny under any other circumstances. Finally gathering her wits about her, Rhea nodded and stood. She levitated Credence and put a hand on his arm in preparation for disapparating.

"Will you two be alright?" she asked.

Percival nodded. "We've got to contact MACUSA and get this obscurus someplace safe. Where will you be taking the boy?"

"He's going to be scared," Newt broke in softly.

Rhea looked between the two men and then down at the boy. "With the amount of damage he has suffered to his magical core it will be a miracle if we can keep him out of a prolonged coma. His body will try to barricade itself from any further injury or shocks. You don't have to worry about him regaining consciousness anytime soon, Mr-"

"Scamander," Newt supplied.

"-Scamander. I'll look after him." She turned to her brother. "I'm taking him to St. Clarissa's. Don't worry, I'll keep this under wraps until MACUSA is informed."

Graves kissed his sister's forehead. "Thank you."

She smiled and then disapparated with Credence. In her absence, the ex-auror and magizoologist exchanged suspicious glances.

"I'm not turning it over to MACUSA," Newt declared, clearly talking about the obscurus.

Graves gritted his teeth, his eyebrows lowering. "You're not keeping it. This isn't one of your damned zoo animals. An obscurus is too dangerous for a civilian."

"I've already got one," Newt said with a strained voice. "I know how to handle them. I can...I need to study them."

"Right." Graves had momentarily forgotten that this was not the first obscurus connected to Newt Scamander. The reports he had read mentioned a Sudanese girl. He massaged his temples. "Mr. Scamander, I don't know how the laws work where you're from, but in my city we don't allow potentially deadly magical forces stay in the hands of untrained, irresponsible, most likely insane people!"

Newt looked hurt and confused by the accusations. "I'm only trying to help. The obscurii need to be studied and understood not feared and locked away in a - a dungeon!"

"Mr. Scamander, it is more likely that they would end up in the MACUSA department dedicated to research of dark magical forces. Who knows, they might even share what they learn if you ask nicely," Graves explained with a longsuffering sigh. He had years of experience dealing with difficult wizards and in his book Newt definitely qualified as difficult. "I'll put in a good word for you," he cajoled.

The ginger's mouth fell into a thin line and his eyes squinted. "The last time I had dealings with someone wearing your face...I was sent to be executed. I'm sorry if I'm having trouble being trusting."

That had been a low blow. Percival traced an eyebrow with his pinkie, mentally counting to ten. "I'm sorry that happened to you, but that had nothing to do with me," he said evenly.

Newt bowed his head and shuffled his feet. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

The apology was unexpected, but Graves would take what he could get. "So you'll allow MACUSA to-"

"No. No, absolutely not!" Newt cut in with a sharp shake of his head. "They'll try to weaponize it or something equally terrible." The magizoologist shuddered.

"For the love of Merlin, we won't turn it into a weapon!" Graves exclaimed. After he said it the ex-auror blinked rapidly to dispel the sudden wave of vertigo washing over him when he remembered that earlier that day he had cut all official ties and now had zero control over how MACUSA may choose to address the obscurus issue. Percival Graves was no longer the head of magical security; he was nothing more than a retired wizard past his prime. Newt noticed his unease and Graves straightened under the other man's scrutiny. "You need to turn it in."

"No, I don't. And I won't." The magizoologist had clearly made his choice.

Newt picked up a suitcase - one that Graves unfortunately recognized from the reports - from where it sat by the wall and opened it up. Whatever stasis spell he had used on the obscurus seemed to respond to his unspoken commands because the black ball floated out of the corner and entered the suitcase. Newt climbed inside after it and the magical piece of luggage snapped closed, locks slamming into place with twin clicks. That was obviously a dismissal.

Graves rolled his eyes at the dramatics. After a moment to consider his options, Percival did the only thing he could do and picked up the suitcase. A quick binding charm would keep the wizard and creatures inside until Graves chose to release them. He apparated to his apartment and threw the luggage on his bed next to the box of office things. MACUSA needed to be informed of the danger in their midst, but with all available personnel working on locating Grindelwald it seemed unlikely that waiting a few hours would make any difference. Graves sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the suitcase. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. It would serve Newt Scamander right to be locked up in his beloved zoo of creatures indefinitely and the urge to spell the whole thing to stone and shove it into his closet was tempting.

"Damn and double damn," Percival grumbled.

"Hey, you there?" Rhea's muffled voice called from the box at his side.

Graves dug out the mirror, frowning at the worried furrow he could see in his sister's brow. "Everything alright with the boy?" he asked.

She nodded and then leaned even closer to the mirror until only her nose and upper lip were visible. "He is exhibiting some weird symptoms," she said in a quiet whisper.

"Weird how?" Percival found himself whispering back.

"My diagnostic spells seem to think he's a squib. . .except, not exactly."

"Huh?" Graves asked. Rhea wasn't usually so vague. "There's no way he's a squib. I've seen his magic."

"Well, yeah, but the spells are just spitting out confusing results," Rhea hissed. "I'm not sure what to tell my supervisors or if I even should tell them. This boy...his magical core has been split in half if I'm right. Taking away the obscurus has left him with very limited magic in his system."

"So limited it's reading like a squib," Graves finished for her with a nod. He should have seen this coming. Dark magic had a way of damaging the core of a wizard or witch and was one of the main reasons certain curses were classes as Unforgivable. "How bad is he?"

"I have honestly no idea. Bad. I've got him in a potion induced coma right now until his nerve endings heal. Though that alone is going to take weeks." She huffed out a breath of air. "Have you been struck with a bad luck hex? Just putting it out there, but that would explain so much of the last six months."

"Not that I know of," he answered her half-serious question.

"Well, that's good. Look, I'll let you know as soon as I've figured out what all these readings mean, but I wasn't sure if you wanted me to wait for MACUSA healers or not."

"About that." Percival pinched his bottom lip as he tried to figure out a diplomatic way of wording what he needed to say next. After a moment he simply blurted out the truth. "I haven't told MACUSA. Mr. Scamander seems to think he's the only one qualified to handle the obscurus and despite my better judgement I'm inclined to give him a chance."

Rhea was silent for so long Percival began to worry. Her image had pulled back so that they were staring straight into each others dark eyes. Slightly unnerved, Graves looked away and instead focused on the bare wall of his bedroom. His sister rarely went so long without breaking a silence.

"Well?" Percival growled when he couldn't take it any longer.

"You are an idiot. I'm firecalling Seraphina." With that Rhea closed her end of the communication.

The suitcase shuddered and something thumped against the top. "I say!" Newt's offended tone was comical under the circumstances. Graves found himself chuckling into his palms in weary defeat. The universe was clearly mocking him. "You've got no right to hold me!" Newt's muffled protest made the ex-auror collapse back on his bad in a fit of unmanly giggles.

"So, this is retirement?" he asked the empty room, wiping tears from his eyes. "Could have been worse."

"What did you say?" the magizoologist demanded from somewhere inside the suitcase.

"I said, wait just a moment!" Graves called back. He sat up and removed the binding spell. As soon as the binding disappeared the suitcase burst open and Newt Scamander fell out onto the floor.

"Ow."

"Serves you right for doing something so stupid. I could have - should have - taken you and your zoo to MACUSA. President Picquery had a hard enough time getting you off without charges the first time. I doubt she'd do so well this time with my successor," Graves said.

The ginger man picked himself up and dusted off his blue coat. "Successor? Did they fire you?"

"No." Graves wasn't about to explain himself to someone he didn't like, much less respect. He ran a hand over the short cropped hair above his ear. "The boy isn't doing well. Something is wrong with his magic."

"Credence." Newt looked around the room as if the boy might suddenly pop out from under the bed. "Where is he?"

"Calm down, Mr. Scamander. My sister, Rhea, is looking after him. She is a skilled medi-witch," Graves said.

"Take me to him. I'm his guardian. I need to be with him," Newt said, turning large pleading eyes on the ex-auror.

"I know I'm going to regret this, but come with me and I'll take you to him. That!" He pointed at the luggage which had once again snapped itself closed. "Stays here."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the other wizard nodded his agreement and watched from under his ginger fringe as Graves went about placing concealment and containment charms on the luggage. There would be no more escaped magical creatures terrorizing the city. Satisfied that it was safe for the time being Percival left the luggage on his bed, pocketed his two-sided mirror, and led the way out into the main part of his apartment. Newt trailed behind him looking at everything in sight.

The natural habitat of Percival Graves was utilitarian, but to the magizoologist it was a treasure trove of information. A single muted blue couch was paired with a low, empty side table. Sheer curtains let in the light without allowing unwanted gazes a view inside. What Newt could see of the kitchen looked like it was probably never used. A muggle fridge was set off in one corner which was unexpected. Lastly, behind the front door was a coat rack with the long black dress cloak and navy blue scarf that Grindelwald had been partial to. Beside them hung an ugly red sand bucket. Graves took down the bucket and offered the handle to Newt.

"It's a portkey to my sister's medical office," the ex-auror explained. "In my line of work you never know - knew - when a healer would be needed." Graves stumbled over his words, still not used to the idea of being free from his former responsibilities at MACUSA.

Newt nodded and took the handle. The world around them twisted and pulled uncomfortably and then rematerialized into a smallish office. Potions, ingredients and healer supplies were carefully arranged on shelves that stretched around all four walls. Rhea was nowhere in sight.

"Come with me," Graves said dropping the bucket on floor with a dull thud. With a wordless spell it returned to Graves' apartment.

The two wizards walked out into the bustling halls of St. Clarissa's. No one paid them any attention as they ducked their heads in and out of rooms until they finally found Rhea three floors down. She was talking to an older woman wearing gray healer robes and a constipated expression. When Rhea saw them her jaw set and she jerked her thumb for them to follow. Newt glanced between the siblings uncertainly but hurried to enter a doorway when Rhea Graves disappeared inside.

Credence lay on the only bed in the room. Rhea closed the door behind them with a muttered "muffliato" spell. Newt went straight to the bed, taking the boy's hand in his own.

"Oh, Credence." Newt said; he reached down and brushed a few stray black hairs out off the boy's forehead.

Percival watched, once again feeling uncomfortably like no one should be witnessing such a tender moment between two wizards. He cleared his throat.

"Rhea, what did Seraphina say?" Percival asked, not really wanting to know but needing to all the same.

"Nothing," Rhea answered with a heavy frown. "I didn't tell her."

"You - wait, what?" Graves asked his sister in confusion.

"I thought about it and...and...Merlin's beard, I'm worried about the boy and what they might do to him. He is the only obscurial of his kind." She wiped a hand across her chin, eyes wrinkled in a grimace. "I heard what happened at the train station. He was killed. I mean, obviously he wasn't, but they meant to kill him. On orders from Seraphina Picquery, no less." Her voice cracked when she spoke her friend's name. "I can't turn him over to them without knowing that he will be safe."

Newt gave her a blinding smile tinged with a hint of sadness. "Thank you, Ms. Graves."

She shrugged. "Unlike my brother, I don't trust MACUSA to always do the right thing."

Percival didn't take offense. He was starting to wonder himself. After all, MACUSA hadn't even identify Gellert Grindelwald when he was right under their nose. The man carded a hand through his short black hair and let his gaze travel to the boy on the bed. Whatever move they made would directly affect Credence Barebone, mostly likely for the rest of his life.

"What's next?" Newt voiced the question on all of their minds.

"Now, we get this kid the hell out of here and then figure out the rest over something much stronger than coffee," Rhea decided for them.

The two wizards nodded.

"Too many aurors know about my place," Percival said. "I can't be sure the obscurus didn't trigger a ward or two. They'll come asking questions if they find out I was at the orphanage."

"Then we can use mine," Newt suggested.

"You own property in New York City?" both Graves' asked with matching looks of surprise.

"No, renting. I wasn't sure how long it would take so me and Credence have been staying at a little place at the edge of town," the ginger explained. "It's isolated. I made sure just in case the obscurus got troublesome."

"That'll work," the healer said with a nod. "Accio field bag!" She opened the door and a few seconds later a large black leather bag zoomed into her hand. "This has everything I'll need. C'mon, what're we waiting for?"

The witch and wizards crowded around the hospital bed, each touching Credence to give greater support for the coming side-along transport. Having two powerful, experienced magical users helped but it was still up to Newt to direct their apparition. Within moments their magics merged and St. Clarissa's disappeared. They arrived in the tiny one-room building without anyone being splinched.

"Mobilicorpus."

Pale magic flowed out of the Rhea's wand and formed a thin pale blanket under Credence, moving him in the direction that the medi-witch pointed her wand. The low light was enough to illuminate two twin sized beds and smattering of other furniture. She moved Credence to the closest bed and carefully lowered him onto the covers.

"I want to run a few spells just to make sure the move didn't jostle anything," she said.

Newt watched nervously, wringing his hands to stop them from reaching for the boy as Rhea ran through a series of orange colored spells. While they were occupied with the boy Graves took the opportunity to look around and try to learn a bit more about the foolhardy magizoologist. Dirty clothes - a mixture of odd patterns and colors - were in a pile at the foot of the empty bed while across the room several sets of stained button down shirts and black slacks were carefully folded and set on top of a dresser. Unclean dishes filled the sink and they were starting to smell. Graves wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at the back of Newt's blue coat. There wasn't much else in the room except a single small suitcase that looked brand new which was leaning against the occupied bed.

"It looks like he came through unscathed-ish. The nerves are just a bit angry but they should settle soon," Rhea proclaimed with an exhausted smile. "Good work everyone."

"We've probably committed numerous felonies by this point, but yes, good work," Percival said sourly.

"Be nice or shut up," his sister groused.

She pulled the blanket off the empty bed and carefully tucked it around her patient. Newt was kneeling next to Credence, his focus entirely on the boy. Graves found it downright unsettling how much the magizoologist seemed to care for Barebone. Curiosity about an obscurial was one thing, but Newt treated the boy as if he was the most important thing in the universe. Percival swallowed hard at that observation. He didn't think anyone - not even Rhea - had ever looked at him with that kind of fervor.

"I'll conjure some beds, Rhea," Graves volunteered, needing something to keep him occupied. Contemplating his own childhood's lack of paternal love would only serve to make him more frustrated with the entire situation. He turned away and took out his wand. The rush of transfiguration magic was exhilarating and he quickly let himself get lost in creating the most elaborate sleeping quarters he could manage. A childish, but much needed distraction.

"What is he doing?" Newt asked some time later in a low whisper. He was leaning over Rhea's shoulder to watch Percival transfigure yet another dirty glass into a silky down pillow the size of a small demiguise.

"He's finally gone bonkers," Rhea whispered back with a hint of laughter hidden behind her hand. "Last time I saw him go all out like this it was Christmas day 1914. Our parents were fighting in the war and we hadn't heard anything from them for weeks. Percival decided to build us a pillow fort the size of London Tower."

"London Tower, aye?" Newt asked.

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. "It reached the high ceiling in the den. That was before he was a department head at MACUSA. We were too old for that kind of thing, but it brought back good memories."

"I can imagine you two got into plenty of mischief as children," Newt said with a playful grin.

"You wouldn't think so to hear Percival talk, but we certainly did," she agreed with a bittersweet smile. "I miss him sometimes. The him from when we were kids," she added.

"I understood," Newt said, his eyes softening.

They continued to watch as the older Graves cast silent transfiguration spells on everything that could be spared. In the end even the pile of dirty clothes were turned into thick down blankets and soft mattresses. The room had become one huge bedroom which now housed four beds, several dozen pillows and enough blankets to fill several cupboards.

"There." Percival sounded pleased when he finally lowered his wand. Expending so much energy had certainly helped improve his mood. He turned bright pink when Rhea and Newt started clapping.

"Bravo," Newt said with genuine pleasure.

Rhea walked over to her brother's side and knocked her shoulder against his. "That's mine, right?" she asked, pointing to a queen size bed smothered in soft pink bedding.

"We could flip for it," Percival joked with a smirk.

His sister laughed and jumped onto the bed, bouncing on the thick blankets. "Best transfiguration ever," she said with a contented sigh. Rhea pulled down one of the pillows and curled up around it closing her eyes. "Tell me if anything changes with the kid."

"I will," Newt promised. The magizoologist rubbed his hands together and cast a glance at Graves. "I'm sorry to bring it up, but I would feel a lot better if my creatures were here with us."

"Oh. Right." Percival had forgotten that the infernal suitcase was still back in his apartment. "I'll go retrieve them."

Newt seemed to deflate with relief as if his anxious worrying was the only thing keeping him upright. "Thank you, Mr. Graves."

"Percival."

"Excuse me?" Newt asked, his brilliant blue eyes wide.

"If we're going to be sharing a sentence for felony crimes you might as well use my given name," Graves said with a half-shrug. "I'll be back soon."

He apparated away before the moment could get any more awkward. Scamander smiled at the spot where Graves had been standing. Maybe the ex-MACUSA agent was more likable than he had been letting on.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't have the patience to stretch out posting what I'd written so you got a big chunk right out of the gate instead of a chapter every week. My bad. Sorry about that. 
> 
> This chapter was actually about twice as long, but I thought this was a nice place to leave it off so the next chapter should be back to a longer length. 
> 
> Thanks everyone for sticking it out! Your reviews have been awesome. :D. They've kept my chin up while I job hunt (not the easiest thing right out of school) and that is worth a lot to me. I hope to have a few more chapters up before the month's over. Let me know what you think.

Rhea and the wizards were seated in a triangle on her giant pink bed eating Queenie's famed raspberry tart. The Goldstein sisters had paid Graves apartment a visit at the same moment he had returned to retrieve the suitcase. Apparently Queenie had been worried that a retired Graves wouldn't know how to feed himself properly. Or maybe it had been a way of celebrating his departure from the department. Graves hadn't asked for an explanation when he gratefully accepted the copious amount of food they had brought for him. 

Newt's suitcase was sitting on the floor beside the front door mat and all the creatures inside had been taken care of by the magizoologist. It had been quickly obvious that making certain his creatures were safe, fed and watered was enough to calm the man. He hadn't seemed half as nervous since finally being dragged back out of the suitcase by a starving Rhea. 

"Queenie probably knows about all this now," Newt said between sucking raspberry sauce off his fingertips. 

"Probably," Graves agreed. 

Unexpectedly, Newt's blue coat gave a squeal of excitement and what looked like a tiny green twig reached out for his plate of dessert. 

"Pickett," Newt warned sternly. "You know raspberry doesn't agree with you."

"Is that a bowtruckle?" Rhea asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the creature. 

Newt blushed and ducked his head. "Yes. I'm sorry for not introducing you properly. He's been a bit cross with me ever since I - I..." he trailed off with a shake of his head. 

The bowtruckle took his silence as an opportunity to go off on a kind of squeaky tangent, emphasizing its speech every few seconds with a poke at Newt's blue coat. The ginger withstood the assault with good natured exasperation until finally the green creature fell silent, crossing its arms. 

"Pickett, I do care about you very much. I mean it, don't look at me like that. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you eat something that will make you sick. Here, why don't you try a fly instead?" he said, holding up a dried fruit fly he'd been saving for just such an occasion

Pickett hemmed and hawed for several moments before snatching the fly from between Newt's two fingers and devouring it in a single gulp. The bowtruckle cooed contentedly and snuggled back under the blue collar until just the tips of its digits were visible.

"There, you see. Much better than raspberries," the ginger said with a knowing grin.

"I want one," Rhea said.

Her eyes were intent and focused on the almost completely hidden stick-like creature. Percival groaned and shoved another bite of dessert into his mouth before waving his spoon in her face. 

"No m're m'g'l cr'tres!" He swallowed. "Or I'm telling mother." 

Rhea shot him a deadly glare. "You wouldn't."

He grinned back at her. "Try me." 

"You two have the most fascinating sibling displays. Reminds me of a litter of three headed dogs I nursed in the Australian outback."

Rhea and Percival turned slowly to look at the magizoologist who was happily retrieving another piece of tart from the container. Newt sounded like a potions professor describing a particularly interesting ingredient. 

"Although, now that I think of it, that ended in a particularly gruesome siblicide. Nevermind." Newt shook his head as if to rid himself of some unpleasant memories. He frowned down at the crimson stuffed treat. "Actually, I think I've lost my appetite."

"I'll take it." Rhea stole the man's plate with a grin. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Newt said dryly. He brushed a few crumbs off the bedding and then settled back with his feet kicked over the side of the mattress. "Pickett, be a dear and figure a way out of this mess for us would you?" Newt said with weary sarcasm. He sighed heavily and patted his coat collar above the creature. "I'm joking." 

"We will figure this out," Percival said, using the same no-nonsense tone he did when giving a pep talk to his officers. "There is a solution and we will find it."

"In the meantime there's raspberry tart and enough pastries to fill a boat. I wonder where Queenie got these anyway. Look, this one's shaped like a panda," Rhea said holding up a browned pastry. 

"Actually, I think that's suppose to be a niffler. Look, that's not a snout it's a bill," Newt said, pointing. 

"Whatever it is, they tastes delicious," the woman said. 

A sad smile pulled at the ginger's mouth. "I imagine they would." 

He didn't explain further and instead fell into a contemplative silence. Credence was still in a potion induced coma and Rhea had assured Newt that he was going to be alright even if he did look too still and pale to the magizoologist. Humans were much harder to gauge than animals and Newt had trouble reconciling the sickly look of his ward with the healers reassurances. 

"We can't stay here for weeks," Graves spoke up from where he sat leaning against the headboard. "You said that's how long it would take for his nerves to heal, Rhea. Is he safe to travel abroad? I think that might be the best strategy. Otherwise MACUSA will find us out sooner or later." 

The witch's eyebrows drew together and she looked over at the unconscious boy. "I think it would be best if we didn't move him using magic. The apparating was enough to aggravate his nerves and that was just across town. Leaving the country would take a lot more magic." Rhea bit her lip and shook her head. "I wouldn't recommend it unless absolutely necessary," she said. 

"We came by boat," Newt said. "There's no reason we can't leave the same way." 

Rhea nodded. "That should be fine." 

"Great," Percival said glumly. He had never had very strong sea legs and the one time he'd gone out on a ferry with his sister he had spent the entire time bent over a bucket. That had been before he'd learned spells to help with the nausea, but the memory still left him wary of sea travel. "I assume you have some way of getting Mr. Barebone aboard without raising suspicions?"

"Repello Muggletum usually does the trick for me," the ginger suggested. 

"The suitcase," Rhea spoke up. "We can set up a space in the suitcase. It'll keep him out of sight and give me a chance to study the obscurus. Knowing more about the boy's obscurus will help with treatment." 

Talk of studying the obscurus left Newt fidgeting uncomfortably, but he finally nodded in assent. With their next move decide the trio had nothing else to do but wait. Percival knew from his time as an auror that there would be no more boats leaving the city until after the weekend was over. That seemed much too far away for the man's taste. 

"I need to go get some things from my place and tell my boss some story to explain why i'm suddenly departing for parts unknown," Rhea said around her last bite of tart. "I've been saving up vacation days though this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Newt ducked his head shyly. "I don't think I've properly thanked you for everything you've done to help Credence. You could have turned him over to MACUSA or refused to treat him. So, um, thank you. I truly appreciate it." 

The witch shrugged. "I'm an intern with the healers at St. Clarissa's. It's literally my job to protect and save lives." 

"Still, I don't know what we would've done with you," Newt said earnestly. He reached over and patted her leg. "I owe you." 

"Assuming we get out of New York without being charged with something like treason then you can make good that debt by figuring out how those obscurii works. There might be more children that can be saved," Percival said. He was glaring at where Newt's hand was still placed familiarly on Rhea's leg. "In the meantime we should get some sleep."

"I'm with you there," Rhea said around a large yawn. "Let me just check on Credence.”

Much to Percival's annoyance, the ginger wizard followed Rhea over to the boy's bed. The younger Graves had always been a sucker for blue eyes and her history of rocky relationships didn't bode well for their current situation. If it weren't for Barebone's condition Percival would have insisted that his sister remain behind. As things were they needed her expertise to ensure the boy survived. There was no telling what insane things Newt Scamander might do if something happened to Barebone. They shared a close relationship that the ex-auror couldn't even fathom much less relate to on any meaningful level. No, they needed Rhea which meant it would fall to him to make sure his sister didn't fall in love with the magizoologist. 

The witch and wizard were leaning over Credence, so close their shoulders brushed, as Rhea ran some tests. After several minutes of this she straightened with a sigh of relief. 

"There is some improvement of the nerves - they're no longer inflamed from the apparation," she said, brushing some loose black hairs behind her ear. "He should be fine for now. I'll need to spell some nourishment potions into him at some point, but that can wait for now."

"Good," Newt said. 

Rhea returned to her bed and crawled under the blankets beside where her brother was still finishing his plate of dessert. Newt ran a gentle hand over the boy's forehead and then went over to his suitcase. Without a word to the Graves siblings he climbed inside. 

"Do you think he's going to sleep in there?" Rhea asked around another gigantic yawn. 

Her brother shrugged and banished the now empty plate. His own bed, covered in thick navy bedding and overflowing with gray pillows, seemed too far away. Percival settled back against the headboard feeling sluggish from eating so much of the sugary treat. 

"Night, brother." 

"Goodnight, Rhea."

Not many minutes passed before both of them had fallen into a deep sleep. When Newt surfaced a few hours later he smiled at the adorable sight the siblings made. Newt had always felt disconnected from his own family. They had expected so much from him and his own brother had become a beloved war hero while Newt had succeeded in getting himself chased out of the most prestigious magic school in the world. He rubbed his ear anxiously and tried not to think about what his parents would say if they could see him now. Breaking more magical laws, running around with dark magic and a suitcase full of creatures they had never heard of. 

Newt was afraid to dream with such things on his mind and transfigured his bed into a comfortable rocking chair and moved next to Credence so that he was close enough to reach out should the boy need comforting. Comfortable silence wrapped around the man as he rocked back and forth in slow sweeps. Outside city lights swallowed up the stars. Since he was already in a contemplative mood, Newt decided it was time to do some soul searching about the his intentions for the obscurus. 

Percival didn't know, because Newt hadn't told him, but the obscurii were acting differently when in close proximity to one another. It was like they sensed one another even through the stasis charm which shouldn't have been possible. Gravitating toward one another physically and even emitting identical sounds which it had taken Newt a while to decipher. Every magical thing had a core of concentrated magic that, according to experts, surrounded and protected the loosely defined "soul". Those magical cores had a unique signature, a vibrational frequency that set each apart, and sometimes it manifested in the form of sound. The obscurii were obviously not from the same person, but they were vibrating at the same frequency. That meant something. What exactly, Newt had no clue. Maybe it could be a way to search out other obscurus before they died. 

Credence and the Sudanese girl must have had their magical core - their souls - fundamentally altered by the obscurial powers  that formed and grew inside of them. How that could be possible was a line of thought that left Newt fascinated and more than a little worried. If this information fell into the wrong hands it could be catastrophic. This knowledge might eventually lead others to figure out how to create artificial obscurii. Not a threat Newt took lightly. The Graves had risked a lot to help him and Credence, but there was no telling what they would do if they found out what Newt had learned so he decided then and there to keep it a secret from them.

Newt glanced over guiltily at where the siblings were now leaning against one another, dead asleep, and lightly snoring. He had never been very good at lying. Until he was able to talk with Credence and learn more about how the obscurus was created they would need to stay in the dark. 

Pickett crawled out from under his coat collar and climbed clumsily up to sit on the man’s shoulder. The creature made reassuring cooing sounds punctuated by the occasional chirrup. Newt smiled at the creature’s attempt to cheer him up.

“Thanks, Pickett,” he said, reaching up to pat the bowtruckle. 

They settled into a more comfortable position and Pickett curled up in the nook of Newt’s neck. Pickett’s soft, even breathing blew against the wizard’s ear with every exhale. After a while Newt felt his eyelids drooping and then he fell into a dreamless sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Inspired by this post http://viviena.tumblr.com/post/153454305098/attacking-a-man-traveling-with-a-devoted-obscurial


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